


This Empty Light

by heartofstanding



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, Clothed Sex, F/F, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:38:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2427287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartofstanding/pseuds/heartofstanding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having lost everything, Annie and Nina cling together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Empty Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bending_sickle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bending_sickle/gifts).



Sunlight strips across the room, pressing in through the gaps in the blinds and the open curtains. Large glass windows let it all in without hesitation and white walls and a square mirror reflect it all back. It's blinding, a blaze of white light and Nina turns away from the windows, seeks the lone shady place at the kitchen table, the chair in the corner.

She thinks of breakfast, thinks mainly of coffee and toast, but her head aches every time she looks towards the kettle, the merciless light stinging her eyes even when she closes the lids. It's not hot, though, even with all the light. She's comfortable enough in her track-pants and t-shirt, fabric thin enough to spit through.

She lays a palm over the flat surface of the table, feels the coolness of the surface chill her own hand as the heat of her body warms it. If she gets up, closes the blinds and curtains, the place will be full of darkness, with monsters in the shadows. She'd rather have the light, however blinding.

When she opens her eyes, Annie is sitting opposite her, head cocked, tilted towards the light. Her hands, set on the table, cradle nothing, heavy with silver rings.

'Morning,' Nina says and Annie smiles, but she doesn't say anything and there's no sudden spark of light or life or love in her eyes. Certainly not joy.

Nina gets up, braves the light to venture into the kitchen, switching on the kettle. She makes coffee in a white mug. Anyone could have a mug like this, sold in their dozens at supermarkets. They'd bought five on sale after Annie had smashed up the ones she'd salvaged from the old house. Everything in this apartment is things that anyone could have, nothing personal, nothing meaningful attached. And it smells of fresh paint and new carpet still.

The kettle clicks off and Nina makes her coffee. When she turns, Annie is standing there, watching her and not saying a word. Nina sighs, heading back to her shady corner by the table. Annie has been doing this a lot lately, ever since they lost George and Mitchell.

She comes to the hospital, trails Nina throughout her rounds, through every buzzer-call. When Nina's at the shop, Annie's behind her, whispering all the things they need to get, and then stands in queues with her. At nights out with the girls from work, Annie is there, a grey smudge leaning against the back of Nina's chair. Even when Nina's in bed, she can hear Annie pacing outside the door.

'It's alright, you know,' Nina says, wrapping her hands tight around her hot mug, 'We'll be alright.'

Annie's lips flatten, but she nods, head bowing down to study the laminated grain of the table. 'Of course we will be.'

+

Nina showers and squeezes the water out of her hair. The apartment is silent, light sneaking the way in beneath the door. Nina switches off the light, stands in the murky darkness and studies her dim outline in the mirror. Her hands run over her breasts, the scar across her belly, her thighs, the tight cluster of dark-blond curls between them. She wants to be touched. She wants something good and normal. She doesn't want this dichotomy of darkness and light and a silence she doesn't know how to break or even if she should break it.

And if she wants these things, Annie must want them too.

She pulls her clothes back on in quick, rough jerks, and goes into her bedroom, shutting the door. She finds a book and sits cross-legged by the window, turning the pale pages. Two chapters after, the door opens, Annie slipping in to stand awkwardly by the bed.

'Nina,' she says, then bites her tongue.

Nina raises an eyebrow.

'I,' Annie says, then frowns severely.

Nina replaces her bookmark, leans back on her hands.

'Er,' says Annie, then looks down at her feet.

'Annie,' Nina says, and suddenly she can't bear it, the claustrophobic air, the light streaming in and leaving them cold. She can't bear to see Annie so awkward, shifting her weight from foot to foot. They've lost everyone but each other. George is gone. Mitchell is gone. There is no one else. She understands why Annie trails her, has understood it all along but she's let it be in hope that the wounds would mend themselves.

Nina pushes herself up, moves to Annie's side. She takes Annie's hands in one of hers, forces herself not to shiver at their coldness. With her other hand, she traces one cheekbone, the high-arch of it, and captures a strand of hair between two fingers and pushes it back behind an ear. A tear clings to an eyelash and Nina wipes it away with her thumb.

'You don't have to do this,' Nina says, and another tear seeps down Annie's cheek. 'We're not going to lose each other.'

'You don't know that,' Annie whispers, tears falling, 'You don't know that. Mitchell said he wouldn't leave and—'

She presses her lips tightly together. Her head ducks down and Nina brushes away yet more tears.

'Look at me,' Nina says, voice stern. Annie doesn't, and so Nina repeats her words, louder this time, until Annie's eyes turn to her, dark and lost and tear-stained. Nina's voice suddenly comes softly as she cups Annie's cheek. 'I am right here. I'm not going anywhere.'

Annie swallows, then closes the gap between them, pressing her lips against Nina's. She tastes of salt, and her lips are cold, but it's real, it's solid. It's not the coldness of a too-bright light and generic furnishings. Nina lets Annie's hands fall, pulls her closer. She secures one hand at the base of Annie's skull, twists dark curls around her fingers. Annie opens her mouth for Nina's tongue, and Nina wants to swallow her whole. Nina's hands are shaking – all of her may be shaking – not sure what they want to do but _touch_.

Annie's hands are surer, grabbing hold of Nina's arse, her mouth sliding wetly across Nina's. It's too much and not enough, but they're here, they'll all each other has, and this is real. And Nina loves Annie, loves her more than anything she has left in this world. Where they go from here is simple, rudimentary and Nina can't work out why it's taken her so long to figure it out.

+

They go to bed like it's easy, like Nina's hands don't tremble or Annie isn't rough in her urgency.

'Slow down,' Nina says, laughter bubbling out of her, 'Slow down, it isn't a race.'

She presses both hands to Annie's face, draws her in close enough to press a kiss to her lips, strong but soft, loving, urging Annie to just breathe and enjoy the moment. Annie's eyes slide closed and her lips part, her whole body beginning to shiver as Nina pulls her ever-closer, urging her just to give in and _feel_.

'I'm here,' Nina says, softly, breathing the words into Annie's mouth, 'No one's going anywhere.'

'Oh, but,' Annie's eyes slide open, pupils huge and as black as spilt ink. Her mouth hangs open, lips wet, and Nina cannot resist kissing her again.

They settle on the bed, Annie lying on one side as Nina curls around her. It's not about sex, really, though Nina's hands sweep over Annie's belly, up over her breasts. They slip beneath the cool layer of Annie's top to touch unseen skin. It feels like Annie has come in after walking on a cold winter night, the night's chill still clinging to her skin.

They know too well that Annie's clothes can't be taken off and Annie's naked skin remains a mystery to Nina and a memory to Annie. But her clothes are suddenly easy to navigate around, Nina's hands travel unrestricted beneath the clingy white cloth of Annie's singlet. The bra, though clipped tight, is loose enough to be slipped down and it's easy to tug down the singlet-neck to below Annie's breasts. Freed and framed by white shoulder straps, Annie's breasts heave with each breath, round with dark nipples. Nina cradles the cool, heavy weight, a breast in each palm.

It strikes her as strange, or wrong, that so intimate a part, that _Annie_ , should be cold when she's so lovely. It's not that it's unpleasant, but it's like having sex in winter with the window open, the feeling that there's no way to drag warmth into their bones. But Annie's face is eager, bottom lip sucked in and held by a tooth, and dark eyes watching Nina through the black lashes. Nina smiles, presses a kiss to Annie's neck and runs a thumb over one nipple.

However cold she is, however much she will never be naked and warm again, Annie is still responsive. Her nipple tightens, pebbles, as does the other when Nina drags a fingernail over it, and Annie exhales softly, her body shifting, pressing back against Nina's. For a moment, Nina wants to make them a cave out of the covers, wants to _see_ Annie as well as – or better than – she can feel. But the fancy passes as her lips find Annie's again, her hands falling from Annie's breasts to her ribs, or what feels like her ribs, beneath the bunched up top. Nina's not sure how it works with a ghost, really, what makes up their bodies, but it feels real enough.

Even the cold of Annie's skin isn't that cold, it's like there's a draft and an open window somewhere, it's not mortuary-cold like Nina once imagined touching a ghost would be like. She can pretend, and she does, that's it's just normal. Just one normal thing, for one brief, transient moment. Her lips move from Annie's mouth to her jaw as her hand slips over the firm belly, down to the waistband of Annie's leggings.

'Please,' Annie whispers, hands going up to clutch at Nina's arm, nails digging in. 'I—'

She trails off, but Nina understands. _I need this,_ Annie's voice says in her head, _I need not to be alone, I need to have something good and human for once in my life._ Someone could quibble about whether this counts as human, a werewolf and a ghost in bed together. But there's something simple and natural about what they're doing. If it's not human, it's the closest they can come to it.

Annie's leggings resist being tugged down, but the elastic waistband stretches easily. Nina tucks a hand in, cupping Annie's sex through her panties. It startles Nina, how warm it feels, like Annie's radiating heat. Her panties are sodden with arousal, and she's panting, hips pushing into Nina's hand.

Nina fights back a pleased grin as she leans up to kiss Annie, hand twisting to rake nails across the cotton. With her free hand, she teases one brown nipple and is rewarded with Annie whimpering, the sound desperate and needy. Nina tries to pull down Annie's panties, twisting fingers around one leg-hole and yanking, but they don't move.

Annie is watching her through slitted eyes, worry working its way into her otherwise pleasured expression. Nina feels something cold and hard stab into her heart at the sight of it. This is meant to be about something good and normal, not highlighting how difficult _normal_ is for Annie.

'Nina,' Annie whispers, teeth biting down hard on her lower lip, nails puncturing holes in Nina's arm, ' _Please_.'

There's a desperation in her that has nothing to do with sex, Nina realises. Annie wants this, to stand on the cusp of closeness and then tumble down into Nina's arms. They've lost too much, too many people that they loved, and Nina's not intending to let Annie go at all. And they want _this_ , they want to have sex with each other, in this bed, without any supernatural rubbish getting in the way.

'It's alright,' Nina says, breathing the words into the delicate shell of Annie's ear. 'We'll work it out.'

Smiling, Nina kisses Annie again, nudging and nuzzling at her jaw until with a long sigh, Annie relaxes, head falling back on the pillow and body leaning into the warmth of Nina's chest. Part of Nina wants to stop long enough to shuck off her own clothes, to see if she could climb into Annie's with her.

But this isn't about Nina, not really, and though her own hips move restlessly against the curve of Annie's arse, desperate for something _more_ , her own panties soiled with arousal, Nina pushes the thought down. She pulls her hand out of Annie's leggings just far enough to slide it below the waistband of Annie's cotton knickers. Her nails snare briefly on tight, damp curls before she touches the vulnerable skin, hot and slick.

Annie whimpers, high-pitched and _wanting_ and _needing_ as Nina begins to rub at her folds, keeping the touch shallow but firm. Annie's back arches, her hips rock forward, trying desperately to encourage a deeper, surer touch.

'Please,' she whines, 'Please, please, please, _please_.'

Nina responds by finding Annie's clit and running her fingers in a circle over that tight nub. Annie's hips jolt forward, her lips opening as she releases a strangled cry of _yes_.

It won't take long, Nina knows, her spare hand going up to cup Annie's heavy breast, circling the dark areola with a thumb and then flicking at the nipple. Annie watches through heavily dilated eyes, breath becoming hoarse. Nina presses closer, her fingers trailing over Annie's entrance. Her free hand runs over Anne's breasts, ribs and belly, palm catching on one stiff nipple. Annie throws her head back with a low moan.

There's no real point in dragging it out, Nina decides. There will be time enough later to take their time, to turn these quick, brief touches into a marathon of enduring pleasure. Annie needs this, now. Nina rubs her palm over Annie's nether lips, hot and dripping wet, and Annie grinds down, whimpering between great gasps of air.

Nina keeps her hand still and lets Annie seek her own pleasure for the moment. Her eyes leave the bulge her hand makes in Annie's leggings, run up Annie's belly. Annie's cardigan lies in a puddle beneath her, pushed back from her shoulders and arms left bare. The singlet is all bunched-up into a single white line and her bare belly and breasts heave with each roll of her hips, each shuddering breath.

Nina can smell nothing but the heady scent of arousal in the room – her own or Annie's, she can't tell. Nina takes her own deep breath to steady herself and pushes a finger deep into Annie as her thumb rubs over Annie's clit. Annie cries out, head falling back to be half-cradled on Nina's shoulder. Immediately, desperately, her hips start to pump down on the finger inside of her.

Her cries soften as she grows breathless, but they don't stop. Not with Nina thrusting her finger deeper-still into Annie's slick depths, and the quick addition of another. As the second finger slides into her, Annie's cries rise in pitch again, mouth spilling echoes of those wordless, pleasured sounds, and her hips rock down hard onto Nina's hand.

Nina presses her mouth to Annie's jaw, traces the feeling of bone down her neck, across her collarbone and sternum. Her tongue sweeps between her breasts, then laps up the hill of her breasts where she worries at a tightly-drawn bud with gentle teeth. Annie throws her head back, back arching. Nina pushes another finger inside of her, and Annie clamps down around her. Her hands tighten around Nina's arm, holding it immobile. For one breathless, heart-stopping moment, everything goes still.

Then Annie begins to push her hips down, jerking herself roughly, desperately down onto those three fingers. Her cries grow in volume, climbing higher and higher in pitch. Her back arches higher as her rhythm begins to falter. Nina bites down hard on the curve of Annie's breast and drags her thumbnail over Annie's throbbing clit. Annie screams, then screams again. Her body pulses, tight and hard, and hot liquid squirts out around Nina's fingers, flooding her palm.

Annie falls back heavily onto the mattress, face red and wet with tears. Her chest hollows in and out as she drags air into lungs with great gasps. Nina leans close, brushing soft lips against damp cheeks, and Annie smiles beautifully.

Carefully, Nina slides her hand free, looks at the pinked skin covered in Annie's slick. She raises it to her mouth to taste, but already the slick is vanishing, becoming nothing more than air. It strikes her as sad, a bitter tinge to the sweet moment, but she pushes it down. One day, she thinks, they'll manage it so she can taste Annie.

'That was,' Annie takes a breath and holds it, her cheeks ballooning. 'That was...'

She laughs and Nina immediately follows suit, cuddling Annie tightly against her.

'I think,' Nina says, pressing messy kisses to Annie's neck and jaw, tracing a finger on the fading bite-mark on Annie's breast, hips beginning to roll against Annie's arse once again. 'The word you are looking for is _good_.'

Annie giggles, twists to push Nina down flat on the mattress and straddles her. 'Better than good,' she says with a cheeky grin, pressing her palms against Nina's breasts, feeling the stiff little nipples through the flimsy cloth of Nina's bra and t-shirt. 'We should do it again.'

'Definitely,' Nina whispers. Her chest arches up into Annie's hands, her hips thrusting up against Annie's.

Annie pushes her hands into Nina's hair, holds her still and drags her up into a thorough kiss, mouth hot and wet, tongue sliding against Nina's. For a moment, Nina forgets about breathing, about how wet she is, and just loses herself in the kiss, one hand anchoring itself in Annie's curls, the other running down over to Annie's cheek to her neck and then down caress to her breasts.

But, almost too soon, Annie is pulling back, still smiling cheekily, all dimples. Nina whines, licking her lips and trying to follow Annie up. Annie pushes her down and shimmies down Nina's body, pushing up her t-shirt to press cool hands to Nina's warm belly, tracing the scar with suddenly cautious fingers.

'It's alright,' Nina whispers, and Annie's hands grow surer, her lips curving into a wicked smile. Quickly, she yanks Nina's track-pants and knickers down – not all the way, just enough to expose the overheated skin of Nina's groin to the cool air.

'Oh,' Annie says, voice soft with wonder, 'You're soaked.'

'What do you expect?' Nina gasps, an impatient bite working into her voice, 'After watching you—'

She squints down at Annie's dark head to glare, just in time to watch as Annie press her mouth against Nina's slit.

'— _oh God_!' Nina falls back onto the mattress, hands tightening into fists, as Annie's tongue snakes into her. It's quick and intense, pleasure racketing up her spine in triple-time as if to make up for the earlier wait. Annie's hands are like cold-brands on her thighs, holding her steady as she bucks up.

Nina thrashes when Annie lets go, her hands clutching handfuls of the sheets, tearing at them with her nails, and her thighs clamp around Annie's head to hold her in place. Annie presses a hand to Nina's belly to ground her, her tongue retreating to lick all over Nina's moist folds before delving in deep again. Nina cries out, her hips rolling furiously against Annie's mouth, and Annie sneaks one cold finger up inside of her.

Nina rides Annie's finger and tongue fast, hands going up to clutch at her breasts, pulling at nipples through clothes. Her body starts to quake and she's crying out, climbing that peak as Annie sinks another finger into her depths and scrapes gentle teeth over her clit. Everything in Nina draws up tight as can be and then, suddenly, swiftly, releases like a dam in a flood.

Like she's caught up in a real flood, Nina drowns, blackness swallowing her whole. Her breath comes loud in her ears, and when she opens her eyes, she stares at the fading sunshine streaked across the ceiling and looks down to see Annie's head nestled on her belly, her face relaxed and filled with a quiet happiness, the most content she's been since they lost George and Mitchell.

Nina rests a hand on Annie's hair, pushes her fingers deep into the soft, cool curls and Annie smiles, peeking up at her through dark lashes.

'Come here,' Nina says, softly, and Annie obliges, leaning down to kiss Nina sweetly.

They sort out their clothes quickly, with few words. Nina tucks Annie's breasts back into her top, pulling up her bra, and Annie pushes Nina's track-pants and knickers off the rest of the way. For a moment, Nina resents that Annie looks so well put together, her clothes unrumpled and untouched by what they've just done. But Annie smiles, curling around Nina as they settle back on the mattress, pulling the covers up over them. Annie rests one hand on Nina's breastbone and leans up to kiss her, just as sweet as before.

'You're here,' she says, words just as soft as Nina's were before, 'You're right here. You're not going anywhere.'

'No,' Nina says, cupping Annie's face and pressing another kiss to her lips. 'Definitely not.'


End file.
